Rings
by WeatherWatch
Summary: Sometimes, you spend your whole life waiting for the ring - just to prove you're not alone.
1. Draco & Asteria

**Disclaimer:**** Unfortunately, no, I don't own/have rights to any of this. *--sniffle. **

**

Looking into the silent black night, the young blonde woman let her hands curl around the cool metal of the balcony railing, revelling in the peace around her. Her hair cascaded down her back, wispy strands framing her pointy face, and she sighed, allowing the sound to fracture the silence as if it were glass.

Glancing at her left hand she admired the silver band that rested on between her smallest and middle fingers; a large, but not ostentatious, diamond nestled perfectly between two small emeralds, glinting in the light that reached her from inside the house.

In a regular world, this ring would symbolise more than a marriage. It would tell of love, devotion, friendship and a lifetime of adventures together…

"Asteria?" An aristocratic, emotionless masculine voice called, leaving a vague echo in its wake.

In a regular world, Asteria thought poignantly. She smiled faintly - her world was a far cry from ordinary, her ring only really proved one thing.

She had accepted the diamond and emeralds merely prove that she was no longer alone.

And yet, even that was a lie.

She was emotionally isolated; her only real relationship extending to the tiny life that was growing inside of her.

Taking one last lingering look at the ring, she turned to the doorway, manoeuvring her heavily pregnant body back into the bedroom.

**So…I was listening to some Pink (Glitter in the Air) and this lyric came up: "Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone"… And I kind of got this idea, and, well, I thought these two characters fitted it (at the moment, anyway ^_^)**

**Might become a couple of drabbles, depending on how I feel. I hope you enjoy this sad little piece.**

**Also, I wrote Asteria and not Astoria because, apparently, that is the correct-JK-writing of the name… So no nastiness about that, please. Merci mes petits choux!**


	2. Harry & Ginny

**Disclaimer:**** Unfortunately, no, I don't own/have rights to any of this. *--sniffle. **

**

Twenty years and one defeated Dark Lord after the loss of Lily and James Potter, the boy hero - now a broad shouldered man - with his perpetually untamed raven locks, rested on his side in a drowsy post-coital state.

Beside him, his wife's ginger hair was splayed across the white pillow, obscuring her beautiful features, her peaceful breathing causing her chest to rise and fall rhythmically, lulling him slowly into sleep.

Harry shifted, pulling her lithe figure closer as if he was confirming the reality of the moment. Subconsciously, the red head turned in her slumber snuggling against his chest as her hands gently pressed against the exposed flesh.

The movement brought Harry's attention to the wedding band adorning that particular finger on her left hand. He smiled and wrapped an arm, lovingly, around her petite frame, brushing a flame ringlet of hair from her face.

The rings borne by each were the closing chapter of his childhood; symbolic of his victory and return, of his undying love, and of her pronouncement that, through sickness and health, until death do they part, she was his - body and soul - and he hers.

The slender gold band was a physical recognition of their connection, proving to the world that, finally, after a lifetime of loss and mourning, he could start afresh, bringing up a family, in a Wizarding world free of danger, with a wife whom he loved unconditionally. Proving to himself that he wasn't alone.

Harry gently drifted off to sleep, calm and feeling blissfully happy at the turn his life had taken.

Everything was in its rightful place, and he was with Ginny.

Together. Forever. At last.

**Random. I haven't done a Harry before. Possibly, I suppose, because I often call him Potty/Pothead and prefer to keep the written company of **_**Malfoys**_**, **_**Notts**_**, **_**Parkinsons**_**, **_**Greengrass'**_**, and **_**Zabinis**_** (ie the whole of Slytherin). Anyway, I hope it's not completely awful. I realise they all have to be a little bit dreadful, I mean, look at the lyric! =P But I do like it.**

**Anyhoo, ciao bellas.**


	3. Fred & Angelina

**Disclaimer:**** Unfortunately, no, I don't own/have rights to any of this. *--sniffle. **

**

Angelina sat quietly on the grass, making barely a noise as she considered the ostentatious rock upon her finger.

A large part of her mind thought it was stunning, and everything she could want in a Post-You-Know-Who world (she still feared his name, despite Hermione Granger's encouragement to speak it), but a small piece of her was terribly unhappy.

It wasn't supposed to be Roger Davies kneeling before her in the restaurant the previous night, a nervous smile gracing his undeniably handsome face, asking for her to marry him; to spend the remainder of her long life with him.

She loved Roger, she really did, but she knew that, had the Great War not happened, it wouldn't be he who she waited up to see on work nights. It wouldn't be Roger who surprised her on occasion by sending beautiful flowers to her own office at the Ministry, causing the other women to gush and giggle. It was meant to be – had always been meant to be - the entrepreneurial, red haired, lanky man who shared his twin's passion for pranks.

Angelina caressed her ring gently, wondering how much Roger had saved to purchase it from Graknul & Gorgak's Jewel Emporium, the obscenely expensive Goblin Jewellers newly opened in Diagon Alley.

She pondered whether Fred would have bought something like this. She smiled sadly, glancing up at the gravestone, her eyes sliding over the inscription as they had many times before:

_Frederick Gideon Weasley_

_Beloved son of Arthur and Molly Weasley,_

_Adored brother of William, Charles, Percy, Ron and Ginevra,_

_And sorely missed twin of George Fabian Weasley._

_April 1__st__ 1978 – May 2__nd__ 1998_

After the acknowledgement of his Order of Merlin, First Class, a short poem had been engraved, which she read aloud, although her voice was barely audible.

"You are me, And I am you, Two souls entwined together, always and forever." It referred to his relationship with George, but it tugged at her heart also.

"I was so lost when you left us, Fred. I didn't know what to do. I cried; I didn't talk to anybody – not even Alicia." She pulled the beginnings of a weed from the dirt at the gravestone's base.

"And then Roger entered my life, and I felt happy again, like there was a sun out there, shining every day." She paused, swallowing thickly. "He proposed last night, you know." She rearranged the flowers resting against the stone.

"You always said that- that if you didn't make it, I should find someone else; to not go through it alone." Angelina brought her left hand into the air, as if showing it to the gravestone. "I think this is proof enough." She smiled softly, letting a tear break through her lashes and roll down her smooth, dark cheek.

"I've finished waiting for you to come back, Fred. I'm doing what you told me to do, all those years ago."

The dark skinned witch stood, walking down the path to the wrought iron gates. When she reached them, she turned to look directly at the gravestone that proudly bore the emblem of the Order of the Phoenix.

"I will always love you Frederick Gideon Weasley."

***--gasp! I did another one. And strangely enough, it's Frangelina [I've never even looked up Angelina before. Odd] **

**Anyway, hope you like it. **


	4. Tom Marvolo Riddle

**Something different this time – as in, Not A Wedding. Also, this was a brilliant idea, until I recalled that the ring was one of the Hallows, and therefore wasn't Slytherin's **_**at all**_**. But, because I like the idea, let's all play pretend and believe it's actually one of Slytherin's random finger jewels. Pretty please. Ta ^_^**

Riddle played with the ostentatious ring that sat on the index finger of his right hand. He was not one to fiddle under normal circumstances but the ring was hardly something what one would define as normal, so he was a little more lenient with himself.

When one lived in an orphanage, the concept of 'mine' was nearly non-existent. The children were all required to share their toys, and share their material, because in the end it was cheaper that way, and while the orphanage owners didn't particularly enjoy the tantrums some of the children had as a result, they would rather the hullaballoo of a screaming child than any more money disappearing out of their already thin pockets.

Tom had spent his whole life in the orphanage where his mother had, sequentially, given birth and then died. He would never forgive her for that misdeed (and indeed, in his mind, it was a crime of the very worst degree), even though it was her family line that had connected him to the first owner of the ring that now rested comfortably on his right hand, as if it belonged there; as if it had been designed for him, and him only, since the beginning of time.

Salazar Slytherin had been a great man and an even better wizard, and Tom Marvolo Riddle was the sole remaining heir. The fact that he could speak parseltongue – the language of snakes – was indication enough, but it was the ring that made it real for the seventh year Slytherin. He was no longer alone in the world; he was the Heir of Slytherin, joined with a bloodline not even those with the purest blood would dare to scorn.

The handsome student glanced at the ring one last time before dropping his hands to his sides and stalking in silence across the dank expanse of ground, deftly avoiding the skeletons of rats. He hissed an unintelligible sentence, and large creature moved about in the darkness in response before falling silent once more.

The ring was heavy on his finger, making its presence known; a physical connection to a grand heritage, and an impressive history, and a promise of greatness to come.

**Ho-kay. D'you like?**

**If so, please READ AND REVIEW LIKE A RESPONSIBLE REVIEWER. ^_^**


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